


Until Gold Touches The Sky

by AuroraKant



Series: Whumptober2020 [15]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: (and death), (not graphic), Alternate Universe - Medieval, BAMF Dick Grayson, Begging, But Dick Grayson Certainly Does, Crying, Damian and Tim are Princes, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is a King, Execution, Gen, Goodbyes, Hurt Dick Grayson, Injury, Not all of them die, Protective Dick Grayson, Sadness, The Wayne Family Are Royals, These Brothers Love Each Other, and it is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:41:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27045148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/pseuds/AuroraKant
Summary: He tried to stand up, but a metal clasped hand came to rest on his shoulder, pushing him back onto the stone floor. His knees hurt but judging by the steadily growing red stain covering his white clothes, they would be the least of his problems soon. Lady Shiva continued to speak:“I do not think that you have any choice in that matter anymore, Richard. But be assured… while I am capable of horrible deeds, I do not enjoy cruelty for cruelty’s sake. Your death – and the death of your brothers – will be quick.”Or: The kingdom of Gotham gets attacked by Lady Shiva and her army - Dick, Damian, and Tim fall into her clutches. It is Dick, who makes a deal to save his brothers - it is Dick, who now has to say goodbye.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Lady Shiva & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Series: Whumptober2020 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948651
Comments: 32
Kudos: 126
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Until Gold Touches The Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Hi my wonderful friends!!!  
> Here is some sadness set in vaguely medieval times! Enjoy!!!  
> (and there is a treat in the endnotes)
> 
> Comments, Kudos and Bookmarks give me life! I love you guys so much and I am extremely happy whenever I read what you felt while reading my story!

In the end it was Lady Shiva who forced Dick to give up his sword. Up until this point the King of Gotham – and Dick had never wanted to have any kind of royal title – had managed to defend the castle just fine, leaving a trail of dead and wounded attackers behind as he made his way to the rooms of his brothers, _his charges_.

The attack had happened during the night, no battle or war or fanfare to warn them. Just a couple of crooked lords allowing the enemy access to Gotham, and Dick waking up in his bedchambers with a knife to his throat.

He had done his best to escape, to protect his people and the land he had been trusted with, and… for a while that had seemed to work. He was still in his night gown, fighting through the skilled soldiers their enemy had sent, when he could feel steel pierce his side.

No!

He had almost reached Damian’s bedchamber. He had almost reached the room of his child. Tim would be close by – and Dick thought he could hear the faint sound of another fight, as his knees buckled, and he sank towards the ground.

The stone was cold as it touched his naked flesh, and his breath came in short bursts… the soldiers had stopped fighting the moment Dick swayed from the weapon inside of him. When he looked up, his sweaty bangs sticking to his forehead, he could see why: It was the feared Lady Shiva standing in front of him, her hair in a high ponytail, her body clad in an armor that spoke of practicality and craftsmanship.

The raids and attacks of Lady Shiva were a constant threat to the kingdom, but Dick had thought them to be dangers of the past, after Shiva failed in her attempts to take over the kingdom of Metropolis half a year ago.

Apparently, he had been wrong. His informants and advisors and consultants… they all had been wrong- Something like this would never have happened to Bruce, his father would never allow for something like this to threaten his kingdom.

But it had happened to him, King Richard the First of Gotham. Richard the Beautiful, people sometimes called him, Richard the Vain – he was neither of these things, at least not when he looked at himself in the mirror and saw the scars and the calluses and the tiredness weighting his body down.

“Lady Shiva… what do I owe the pleasure to…” His voice was breathy, the pain slowly setting in, sending waves of fire dancing through his body. He wanted to shake and fall and curl up – but he was a king, even dressed in a nightgown. He couldn’t waver. He had to stay strong.

“Richard. You are a worthy opponent.”

“That’s why you didn’t fight me yourself?”

Dick could see the anger ablaze in her eyes, and he knew he had just slighted her abilities – something very few men or women had ever walked away from.

But instead of striking him, or killing him outright, Shiva stepped closer, something dangerous in her gait:

“I have not fought you, because my men were capable of doing so as well. But that is… not the point now, is it?”

“What do you want?”

“Your kingdom. Your throne. Your crown – your people. And I shall get it.”

“Never”, spit Dick, the fury at what he knew would be the future cursing through his veins.

He tried to stand up, but a metal clasped hand came to rest on his shoulder, pushing him back onto the stone floor. His knees hurt but judging by the steadily growing red stain covering his white clothes, they would be the least of his problems soon.

“I do not think that you have any choice in that matter anymore, Richard. But be assured… while I am capable of horrible deeds, I do not enjoy cruelty for cruelty’s sake. Your death – and the death of your brothers – will be quick.”

“My… No! You can’t kill them!”

But Dick could see in her eyes that it was already to late. Lady Shiva had made her choice, and her choice was the public execution of the royal family. At least they would get the sword – a swift and relatively painless death reserved for nobles and cooperating captives of war. Funnily enough that did only little to sooth Dick’s fraying nerves.

He wouldn’t… he couldn’t watch as his brothers died. He couldn’t sit by and let them be killed. The day Dick had accepted the crown, which he had never desired, he had sworn to protect his brothers and this land with his life. He had promised to secure a living and a future for them… he couldn’t fail now.

Sounds traveled down the long hallway Dick was cowering in, and it didn’t take long for Dick to be able to discern the rattling of armor from the cursing Dick knew better than his own mind: Damian and Tim.

It didn’t take long for them to join him and Dick’s heart squeezed when he saw the state they were in.

Damian had a bloody gash on his forehead, blood slowly dripping down onto the heavy brocade of his nightgown. The boy was still struggling, cursing, fighting, though his attempts to reach freedom ceased noticeably once he spotted Dick kneeling on the floor. Once he spotted the growing red stain and Lady Shiva standing behind him, sword at the ready.

Tim looked slightly dazed, between the two soldiers grabbing his upper arms to keep him upright. Dick knew that Tim had fought, could see the dried old blood of enemies on the robe Tim wore… but someone must have gotten the drop on his brother, because Tim barely blinked through the haze when he noticed Dick.

They had lost. All three of them were here, unable to escape, unable to do anything but wait for the verdict declaring their death.

Lady Shiva watched as Damian and Tim got pushed down next to Dick, Tim dangerously swaying, only the hand of a guard keeping him upright. She wouldn’t execute them here – it was common and accepted practice to wait a few days before arranging a public sentence. And yet Dick couldn’t stop the shiver from running down his spine…

He had lost everything in one night.

He had lost the kingdom Bruce had trusted him to cherish.

He had lost the crown the council had entrusted him to protect.

And now… he would also lose his brothers, the family he had sworn to give everything for.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t watch them die.

“Lady Shiva, I…”

“No. Richard, I want you to understand you place: You are the fallen king. I will reign Gotham from now on, and I shall be a good Queen. The people will not suffer under my tutelage – not more, at least, than they have already suffered under yours.”

Her words weren’t cruel, or harsh, or pitying – Shiva just explained to him how their world worked. And she was right: he had fallen far, the first droplets of blood making the floor beneath his bruised knees slick.

Damian was sending him panicked glances, the boy understanding that now was not the time to speak… Instead, there was something prideful radiating from Damian as he raised his eyes to meet Shiva’s. Next to Dick, Tim did the same, even if the boy had more trouble to focus on the face of their captor.

They were right.

They were kings and princes.

Dick as well would await his fate with a head raised high.

Shiva saw their attempt at bravado, and she smiled, as if she respected their grasp at dignity. Well, from what Dick knew about her, she might as well do just that: Lady Shiva had a complicated code of honor after all – one that made her a restless wanderer and warrior, but one that also allowed her to stand above some of the horrors this world had to offer.

There was nothing soft, however, in her voice when she spoke next:

“You are to be executed in three days’ time at dawn – I will make sure all the people of Gotham will be there to see your demise. You will die by sword – I shall grant you your dignity and the pleasure of your own clothes as you die. Until then… Look them in one of the boys’ chambers. I will claim the king’s quarters as mine.”

With that Lady Shiva turned around, striding down the long hallway with the grace of a queen. A queen that had recently bathed in the blood of her enemies, armor heavy as she made her way towards Dick’s room.

The guards behind them didn’t wait long to enact their mistress’s orders, pulling Dick, Tim and Damian back onto their feet. Dick swayed as his position changed, and his breath hitched when the soldier tried to force him to walk.

Maybe he wouldn’t even succeed in surviving until his execution. Maybe he would just die right now.

The darkness claimed him, a faint echo of his brother’s voice yelling “Richard!” in his ears.

Maybe it was better this way.

They had been locked into Damian’s bedchamber; the room smaller than Dick’s but still sizable. Dick had been honestly surprised when he woke up again after losing consciousness. Someone had dressed his wound, and he had slept through the worst of the fever, before he woke up in Damian’s bed with a headache pulsing behind his eyes, and dread pooling in his stomach.

It hadn’t taken long for him to figure out that their execution was less than twenty-four hours away, and that nothing Damian and Tim tried had even dented the heavy oak door separating them from freedom. All they could do right now was wait… and Dick hated it.

He sat leaned against the ornate headboard of his brother’s bed, the world still hazy around him, the fever probably staying with him until his death. Tim was pacing in front of the window, the glass bolted into the stone, the room bathed in the soft light of the late summer.

Damian was standing in front of the door, dressed in his best clothes, fury coiled in his tiny shoulders.

Damian and Tim were far too young to die. It hurt just to look at them, it hurt just to know what they would face and how they would die.

Tim would never finish his studies and get to work for the diplomatic mission Dick had planned for Gotham. He would never travel the world like he so desperately wanted to, and he would never find a bride or a groom, he would be proud of marrying. Tim would never become an advisor to the crown, and he would never laugh while playing chess again.

Damian… Damian would never master the art of swordsmanship like he so desperately aspired to, and he would never tame the wild horse Colin had captured for him. He would never finish his drawing lessons – and he would never know how much Dick truly loved him. Because Damian would die before he was old enough to understand what it had meant for Dick to become king after Bruce’s death.

Dick couldn’t watch. Each movement reminded him of their demise, each glance of life a cruel sign of the death that would soon color them grey.

There had to be something.

Late afternoon sun was filtering in through the window, when Tim finally ceased his pacing. Dick was glad, he was getting dizzy from all the toing and froing.

There was something desperate in the young man’s gaze when he looked at Dick, and it was audible in his voice as well:

“And what’s next?”

Dick wished he knew.

He wanted to have an answer. He wanted to be able to save them.

It was Damian, however, who answered, anger starkly visible:

“Now we die, dimwit. We die and disgrace the Wayne name and this kingdom.”

But, no, it wasn’t anger coloring his voice ugly. It was fear. And Dick’s heart broke anew. He never wanted Damian to be afraid like this, he never wanted to see Tim that desperate… there had to be something Dick could do.

“I will save us…”

Dick’s voice was small, the fever still bringing exhaustion to his very existence. But he had spoken – and when a king spoke, you listened. Not that Dick’s authority stopped Tim from asking:

“And how? What do you think you can do? You can barely sit up.”

“I…”

“Stop it, Richard. Your inane attempt to cheer us up, will not ratify this situation.”

“But I have to do something!”

Dick hadn’t planned on getting load, and by the shocked expression on both Damian’s and Tim’s faces, neither had they. Guilt settled almost immediately in Dick’s stomach, but he couldn’t let the fear get to him. It didn’t matter that Tim looked sufficiently scolded or that Damian’s cheeks were alight with shame… Dick only wanted to protect them, so they would see another day.

It was Tim who recovered first, coming towards Dick, and sitting down on top of the bed:

“I… I understand that you want to save us… But I went through every single scenario I could think off… and we die in every single one of them. I am… I am sorry, Dick.”

“There is nothing you have to be sorry for…”

It pulled at the stitches in his stomach, but Dick leaned forward, pulling Tim into a tight hug. For a moment they stayed like this, before the bed dipped under the added weight of Damian, who had climbed onto the cushions from the other side. His voice was tiny when he spoke:

“I am sorry as well, Richard. I should not have snapped. I… I fear our untimely demise is weighting heavy on my temper.”

Dick couldn’t help himself, he pulled Damian close as well. For a moment that was enough. For a moment only the three of them existed, and the world was alright. But the burning wound in his side, and the fear accelerating his heartbeat wouldn’t let him forget reality for long.

“I love you… and I am sorry that I failed you as your brother, and Gotham as its king…”

“There is nothing you have to be sorry for either, Dick… we all did our best, and we all lost…”

The silence weighted heavy on them all, their love for each other almost stifling. Dick wanted… he wanted to save them. To see them succeed. He wanted Tim and Damian to grow up… he owed them both as much.

His stomach was still churning hours later, when Tim and Damian had fallen asleep next to him. Their young and vulnerable faces pressed into the crook of Dick’s neck and into his shoulder respectively. It was a battle to free himself from their desperate grasps, and to escape the bed without waking them.

The room swayed when Dick finally managed to get back on his feet, the world a lurching mess of colors and pain. But Dick didn’t cave – he couldn’t allow himself to cave. Instead, he stood strong, taking deep breaths as he waited for the room to settle down and his heartbeat to agree with him.

He was cautious when he knocked against the oak door, his voice kingly and yet silent as he spoke:

“I demand an audience with Lady Shiva. I have an offer to make – one that might help this kingdom greatly.”

For a few moments nothing happened, the silence of the deep night almost impenetrable. Dick was about to knock again, when the door opened, a stone-faced guard standing on the other side.

He didn’t know the person escorting him, but her orders were pretty clear:

“The Queen allows it – but one mistake and the Queen shall have you drawn and quartered.”

Dick stumbled as she pulled him down the hallway, locking the door behind Dick, a different guard stationed in front of Damian’s bedchamber – their prison cell.

It didn’t take long until they reached the throne room, Dick’s feet ice cold, the stone floor leeching the last bit of heat out of his naked soles. He was wearing yet another nightgown – nobody had planned on dressing the injured former king in expensive breeches if he was just about to die.

Shiva sat on top of the throne that had once upon a time been Dick’s and before him Bruce’s. She… she looked regal, her dark hair framing her face, the armor exchanged for an expensive golden dress. Dick wasn’t fooled, however, the dress would allow her to fight as well, the design one common for female warriors out of uniform.

Next to her throne stood her generals, her lieutenants, her most trusted. Dick recognized most of them.

To her left was Katana, a mysterious fighter with morals close to those of Shiva and a cursed blade of legend’s past. On her left were Deathstroke and Deadshot, both mercenaries who had sworn their alliances to Shiva years ago. One was a master with the blade, another an impossibly talented archer – both were cruel, but fair to children.

There were some he didn’t recognize though – and there were those he knew personally.

Penguin, a rich merchant from Gotham itself, stood not far from the throne, and Dick could see the smugness in his beak shaped face. Next to him was Roman, a royal who had only recently reclaimed his name and his fame… Dick knew they hated him, but he had never thought their hatred to be strong enough to betray their kingdom.

It was sickening to see.

The only person looking slightly out of place was the girl standing behind the throne. She must be slightly older than Tim, maybe the age Jason would have been by now had he survived the civilian uprisings a few years ago.

(and Dick didn’t want to think of the brother he had lost – the brother they would soon join again, see again)

She was… pretty, in the same way Lady Shiva was, but there was something desolate in her gaze. Dick would have felt for her… if it wasn’t his life that was currently on the line. If it weren’t his brothers, he was trying to save.

“I have granted you an audience, Richard. Don’t waste my time – speak.”

“Dear La- Queen Shiva, I am offering you my life, my body, and my knowledge in exchange for the lives of my brothers.”

Dick’s voice never wavered, something like steel settling inside of him. Damian and Tim would hate him should he succeed, but at least they would live long enough to experience these emotions.

He would do anything for his little brothers. Maybe he would even sacrifice Gotham.

A murmur went through the room, none of the warmth left, Dick had done his best to instill in the giant stone hall. The room had always felt too cold back when he had been king, but at least he had tried – inviting citizens of Gotham to bring their music into his own home, lighting fires in the big fireplaces, even during the summer.

Shiva sat in darkness and cold – it suited her well.

“And why should I grand you that? I already have you. And I have your brothers. Why should I let them live and endanger myself, if they are already in my hand?”

“Because… Because you hate killing children. Because you are many things Queen Shiva, but you are not needlessly cruel. Tim and Damian are trained, clever, they would make great assets to you in the future, and their support would strengthen your claim on Gotham…”

Dick was babbling, words falling from his lips in rapid succession. He needed to make Shiva believe the words he was saying, he needed her to listen… if it took Dick begging to save the lives of his brothers, he would do so.

“And why would they follow me? Stay loyal? Letting them live is an invitation for trouble.”

Shiva didn’t sound cruel when she said that. She sounded honestly interested. And Dick felt relief flood his veins… maybe he had a chance. Maybe he could save them at least, even if he was unable to save himself.

One day Tim and Damian might even be old enough to forgive him for this.

He slumped forward, his head touching the cold stone. It fell onto the first step of the podium on which the throne rested. It was a humiliating position; he was cowering in a way no king should ever cower. He was bowing to the enemy, giving up his pride – the only thing he still had left next to his life. Dick no longer held any status, or fame, or fortune… he was just the former king, fallen from the public graces through the attack of Lady Shiva and her followers.

His voice sounded unlike the voice he had come to know… he didn’t sound like King Richard. He sounded like Dick, scared for the future of those he loved:

“You can have me. All of me. Whatever you want – you may do it to me. You can have me drawn and quartered without any resistance, you can have me killed, or hanged, or tortured… you can bed me or wed me or… anything. I won’t resist. I won’t flinch. All I need is to know that my brothers are safe… you can even use me against them, as long as they are alive and well. Please… I… I can’t let them die… please….”

The tears were against everything Dick stood for, signs of weakness and a broken mind. But… whenever he blinked, he saw Damian smile as he drew his cat, bathed in the warm yellow light of late summer. Or he saw Tim laughing as he jumped into the lake behind the castle, his friends yelling and running after him.

He needed them to live.

“I beg you to save them… my life is worthless compared to them… my soul belongs to you if you require it. _Use me_ … just please… _please_ let my brothers live… they are… they are children and they are mine. I want… I need to see them happy… I can’t… take me and use me. Kill me. Let me be your spoil of war… just _please_ don’t touch them.”

That was the only goal worth fighting for. Tim and Damian had to live.

A hand touched his chin, and Dick obediently followed Shiva’s movements, until his eyes met hers, and his tear stained cheeks presented themselves to the room. She was… smiling would be the wrong word… she was looking satisfied:

“You are a man of principle, Richard. I can respect that, even if I find your begging to be pitiful. But a Queen is nothing if she can’t show mercy…”

Hope bloomed in Dick’s chest, slow blossoms unfurling with the promises hidden in Shiva’s words. He couldn’t dare speak, but his soul welcomed the tendrils of a promised tomorrow.

Shiva continued:

“Tomorrow at dawn your brothers and you will be brought from your room to the place in front of the palace where the execution is to be set. And I will address the people of Gotham, and I shall show them my divine grace by pardoning your brothers, by welcoming them as mine. Lord Wilson will take Damian as his, and Lord Lawton will train Timothy. They shall have lives worthy of their talents – I will promise you that.”

“And I?”

“You shall die as promised. But I demand one thing before I let my sword come down to meet your neck.”

For a moment Dick allowed the fear to wash over him. He would die tomorrow at dawn. But at least his brothers would live. At least some of them would survive. At least they still had a chance. At least the kingdom had some hope left.

“What do you want me to do, my Queen?”

“I want you to address your people, the people who grew up under the Wayne family, who see you as the only rightful heir to the throne… and I want you to look at them and tell them – without fear or anger in your voice – that you support my reign over Gotham.”

It was… It made sense. In a horrible, horrible way Shiva asking him to betray what he believed in, made sense. She needed to strengthen her claim to the throne – and what better person to do that for you than the beloved king you were about to kill?

Dick only hoped that she would uphold her end of the bargain as well. Maybe that way Damian and Tim would learn to forgive him. Maybe that way they would come to honor his memory once they had a chance to grow up.

“And you promise me… you promise me, that Damian and Tim will get good lives. That your generals won’t abuse them, that they will have a chance to grow old…”

Shiva was kneeling in front of Dick, her body still in a higher position than his, but her posture rather informal. Her face was soft when she addressed him next, her eyes those of an experienced fighter:

“I will make sure they are well cared for until their twenty-fifth birthday, until they reach adulthood. After that, they will have to make their own choices… but I am a woman who keeps her word as long as you keep yours. And I am a mother – I understand the need to protect one’s child. And now… it would be cruel of me not to give you a chance to say goodbye.”

Her hand was warm when it caressed his cheek, and Dick saw the face of the girl behind her throne flash through his mind. So, it was true… Lady Shiva was a mother, and she would… she would take care of Damian and Tim.

Dick’s head was still resting on the stone step, when Shiva straightened, her voice that of a queen once more:

“Guards! Bring him to his room! And make sure everything is ready for tomorrow morning!”

Dick barely felt the guard’s hands on his arms – the emotions in his chest too much of a raging fire. Relief and fear and gratitude all wrestled for dominance. He wanted… he had… maybe they…

Damian and Tim would live. They would survive.

Now Dick only had to tell them what the price for their survival had been.

They were still sleeping, curled up next to each other, when Dick returned to Damian’s bedchamber, the door falling shut behind him with a deafening thud. For a moment Dick played with the thought of letting them sleep, of giving them this last bit of rest and calm.

He wanted to soak in every detail, and every ounce of their essence… he wanted to brand their faces into his memories. He wanted to be able to remember every single scar and pimple on Tim’s face, and to be able to trace the curve of Damian’s nose even in his sleep…

But… weren’t they the ones who deserved a chance to say goodbye? Weren’t they the ones who would have to remember his face years down the line?

It would be selfish to let them sleep – and Dick was many things, but he wasn’t that.

He was cautious as he stepped closer towards the bed, something heavy weighting him down. He would have to say goodbye. After tomorrow… he would be gone. He would never hug Damian again and he would never spar with Tim again… he would… he would be dead.

They looked to peaceful under the protection of the moonlight filtering in through the window, their faces young and unmarred by years of pain and responsibility. They were children. Tim was seventeen, only a couple of months away from his independent studies as a royal of Gotham and Damian was twelve, not yet even allowed to leave the castle grounds without a guard.

They were children, and Dick had ensured they would grow up to become men.

Damian blinked his eyes open before Dick’s hand came to rest on top of his shoulder, the boy always a light sleeper. For a moment Dick enjoyed the confusion on the small face, the wrinkled forehead and the scrunched-up nose.

But Dick noticed the moment Damian’s brain worked through the picture Dick himself presented, the boy struggling to sit up.

All that jostling woke Tim up as well, another bleary gaze finding Dick.

It was Damian who spoke first, grief choking Dick:

“What is the matter, Richard? Why are you up? Sleep – we don’t want to give those peasants the satisfaction of seeing us in distress when we meet our end.”

“Um…”

“Dick?” Tim had finally fought the sleep from his eyes, fear audible in his voice.

Tim had always been awfully clever, and it shouldn’t surprise Dick that the boy had realized that something was wrong just now. Well, with Dick standing frozen in front of the bed, the signs were all there, ready to be interpreted.

“Dick? What is going on?” Tim repeated.

“Yes, Richard. You are… behaving usual.”

“I…”

It hurt to look at his brothers and know… Dick’s heart was breaking for himself, while his mind soared in joy for the future Tim and Damian would have. He didn’t want to die – he never wanted to die. He had dreamt of growing old, of finding a wife he could battle with, and a home he could love… he had wanted a life – but he would gladly give his for his brothers. _His kids_.

“I… you will not be executed tomorrow morning.”

“What?”

Confusion was visible on Damian’s face, and Tim seemed just as puzzled. The both of them were adorable, their hair sticking up in every direction, their clothes rumbled. They had cuddled while Dick had been gone… for the rest of their lives it would only be the two of them whenever they decided that they wanted the warmth of another, the comfort of family.

The Wayne family had already lost so much in the last few years, now it would loose one more. 

“But that is great… Dick… what are you not telling us? Why… why aren’t you happy?”

Tim was almost an adult – but he sounded like a child, as the senseless hope once more fled from his face. It was Damian, however, who put it into words:

“What did you do, Richard?”

“I… I traded my dignity for your lives. You… you will live. Two of Lady Shiva’s generals will take good care of you. You will receive schooling, and food, and a home…”

“And what will you do?” Tim asked silently.

“I will die – just as she ordered. And I will do so, by giving Gotham to her officially.”

“Richard! You can’t do that!”

Damian’s exclamation didn’t come as a surprise, but Dick still flinched back, as the boy jumped from the bed, something desperate and wild in his gaze. Damian looked furious, and… Dick let the small fists connect with his body, when Damian lost control.

“You can’t betray the Wayne name like this! You can’t betray Father like this! The kingdom! They count on you! Let me die dignified! Don’t--- don’t leave me here! Don’t let me down!”

What had started as an angry rant, ended in tiny sobs, and Dick couldn’t help himself: He pulled Damian closer, pressing the small face against his midriff, trying to gain warmth and strength from the tiny body. They were shaking, the both of them. 

“I’m sorry, Damian… but I can’t let you die… I won’t let you die…”

Dick wasn’t crying. _Yet_. But he sure felt like it, his heart pounding loudly with his love for his siblings.

Tim was still sitting on the bed, the blankets a mess around him. Disbelief stood stark on his face, anger and fear and hurt visible in his eyes:

“How could you Dick… How? Why…?”

“Is it so hard to understand that I would do anything for you?”

Dick’s voice was quivering. He hadn’t even sounded that pitiful when he had begged in front of Lady Shiva… but right now he was begging for the forgiveness of his brothers, who were just as honor bound as him. Who had been ready to die for their kingdom – only that Dick wouldn’t let them.

“Yes! You are supposed to be the king! You… You can’t just betray Gotham like that! Not for us!”

Tim’s anger was barely hiding his pain, and Dick wished he could just magic it all away. He craved for a world that would allow him to be happy with his brothers by his side, and no responsibilities to drag him down.

Damian was still shaking in Dick’s grasp, but the boy had fallen silent – probably because he noticed that his insults had turned into sobs.

They were all bathed in silver, when Dick let himself sink down onto the floor, taking Damian with him. The boy neatly folded into Dick’s arms, their connection never breaking. Dick would have to take care of that soon, but before he could do that, he had to address Tim once more:

“Bruce might have sworn to protect Gotham above all else… but when I was given this crown, this kingdom, this city… I knew I would always protect my family first. I will always try to save you, Tim. And I will always try to do my best to protect Damian… I love Gotham. It is my home. It is my country. But… I love you so much more…”

“And what are we supposed to do? Why can’t we protect you as well? Now, we won’t die together… but we will be forced to watch you die… we will be forced to see our king – our brother! – die. Isn’t that just as cruel?”

“Not if it means, that you will get to see another day, Tim…”

Tim flinched, and for a moment Dick feared that he would die with his brothers hating him. That he would die alone and scared and completely void of the relationships he was sacrificing his life for… but then Tim straightened up.

His limbs were long and awkward, in the way only the limbs of teenagers could be, when he climbed down from the bed, and came to sit next to Damian and Dick. He was so silent, so sad, when he leaned against Dick and whispered:

“I hate you…”

Dick could hear the tears in his voice.

“I love you too, Timbers…”

It was hard not to choke on the sorrow, not to drown in the misery. Dick was so glad that his brothers would survive, but all that happiness couldn’t negate the immense fear living inside his heart. He had wanted to see them grow up, he had always wished to be there for them until the day they no longer needed him.

It felt wrong to grieve himself, and yet he did.

Damian began to move, when the first sob escaped Dick’s throat, and Dick could see the tearstained cheeks of his kid glint in the moonlight.

Damian was just a boy, a child… he didn’t deserve any of this.

“I don’t want to be alone again…”

“You won’t be alone, Damian… you will have Tim. And you will have guardians, who have sworn to protect you. You will be safe. You won’t… you won’t be alone…”

Dick hated how his voice broke, but he was unable to win his battle for control. How could he look Damian in the eye and not succumb to the grief and the horror? How could he look at his child and not cry because of all the lost opportunities?

The fact that Damian usually tried to act more mature, tried to appear older than he was, was only a painful reminder of all the areas Dick had failed in raising him. Dick hadn't managed to give Damian the childhood he deserved and yet the boy was grieving him. Dick didn't deserve any of them. Especially since Damian looked no day past the age of twelve as he cried pressed against Dick’s chest.

His boy was suffering, and his broken whisper might just kill Dick long before Shiva’s sword could:

“But I won’t have you… you promised me, you’d be there. You promised me, you’d never leave. I… I trusted you. You said you would always be there for me. And for Gotham… and now you are dying. Dying for a wrench on the throne and for lives spent in dishonor for me and Timothy.”

“Your life is more worthy than mine – and your honor lives in your heart and not your status.”

There were a thousand things Dick still wanted to teach Damian. He wanted to show the boy how to shoot an arrow, and how to dance with princesses and princes. He wanted to tell Tim of the time Dick had almost gotten arrested in Metropolis during his Grand Tour, and he wanted to share his collection of handkerchiefs with the boys once they were old enough to understand their worth.

He wanted to be a father to Damian and a positive guidance to Tim. He wanted to see them grow up and he wanted to be there the day they got married. He wanted…

He wanted so many things, but mostly he wanted them to have a life. With him or without him.

“I love you so much, Damian. So, so much… my life is so little in comparison to the great things you and your brother will achieve. You will do great things. Big things. Beautiful things. You will grow up and change the world.”

“But you won’t be there to see it…”

Tim’s voice sounded just as broken as Dick felt, and his entire being shuddered under the guilt of bringing his brothers so much pain. But it was the only way… no matter how painful it was… it was the only way Dick could ensure their safety.

“And I want to be there, Tim. I don’t want to die… I really, really don’t. Especially not alone. But I will. Because… because you are the future and you are… you are my world. And no matter how much I will miss you… I… I can’t… I can’t let you die…”

The tears pooling down his cheeks were itching his sensitive skin, his heart aflame with love and worry and grief. Dick watched as the moon ran its course, and he knew with each second his own death crept closer.

It would be over soon.

There would be little more of him left than the legacies he helped create and the fact that King Richard the Vain would be the king Gotham had fallen under.

But until the hour before dawn reached them, before the guards came back to guide him towards his death, Dick would hug his brothers close. He would hold them and care for them and love them. He would kiss their cheeks and whisper sweet nothings. He would cry and sob and hold them as they did the same.

“I will miss you, Richard. And I love you. Please don’t go… _please, please, please don’t go._ I have never asked you for anything, but I am asking you for this now: Please don’t leave me alone. Please let me go with you – die with you.”

Damian looked so earnest when he made his preposition. He was young, and frightened and… and Dick would leave him to face the world alone, without his caring touch and his gentle guidance. Tim stiffened next to Dick, but Dick answered before Tim could, cutting off what could be an argument or a testament of love:

“I… I will give you my heart and my soul and my life… but I will never give you this, Damian. I will be the only one of us who dies – and I… I hope that one day you can forgive me for that. That one day you can remember me fondly. That you will still love me when my soul has left this earthly plane…”

Dick hadn’t known that he could feel this spent. He was tired beyond his years, exhausted far beyond what he had ever experienced…. And yet he still pressed Damian closer, even as the weak struggling of the boy ceased.

Damian offered no second “I love you” nor did he claim to forgive Dick. But… Dick just hoped that one day his boy would understand, why Dick had done what he did. That one day Damian would look at his own children, and realize what it meant to love like that. What it meant to be ready to die at a moment notice if that ensured the safety one of your own.

Dick was still staring at the black tuff of Damian’s hair that was visible, when Tim leaned in closer, his voice so low Dick had trouble understanding him:

“I… I… am not claiming that I fully support you. I can’t. I would rather die by your side than survive alone as well… but since… since I know I won’t change your mind… I love you, Dick… and I promise… I promise you that I will look after Damian. I’ll make sure he stays out of trouble. I will… I will make sure he grows up alright.”

“Thank you… I… I love you so much…”

“I know…”

Darkness fell over them, the hours before dawn always the blackest. They were silent – but Dick knew all of them were contemplating life. And how it ended.

All of them were grieving a death that had not yet happened.

The guards came far too soon.

Dick wasn’t ready yet – but then again, could one truly be ready for one’s death?

They waited as Dick pulled on his king’s garb, and they waited as Dick helped Damian and Tim fasted their broaches and robes, their clothing worthy of princes. It was a show of power, allowing them to present themselves as the royals they had once been – but Dick was grateful for it.

At least like this, he would be able to die with dignity. At least like this, his brothers wouldn’t be forced to see him die in shame and dirt.

He didn’t want to die. But Dick had never been someone to back down from a challenge.

They were silent when they left Damian’s bedchamber behind, the halls of the castle still bathed in the blue hues of early morning. The guards escorting them were professional, their steps calm and quiet, their grasps on Dick’s arm hard, but not bruising.

So, that’s what it felt like being escorted to one’s death.

There was unease bubbling in his stomach, nausea threatening to spill over his lips. His heart was beating fast, enjoying the last beats it still had left… Dying felt a lot like living – just a bit more painful, a bit more permanent.

No sound reached them until they crossed the gates leading into the city. The castle had been calm and empty, not even the servants enlivening the long stone hallways yet. But once they stepped onto the cobbled street leading onto the grand plaza of Gotham, Dick knew that silence was a thing of the past.

Neither Damian or Tim had said anything to the guards, had said anything to Dick, once it became obvious that their time had come – that Dick’s time had come.

They held their heads high, and their expressions calm, but Dick could see the fear in their eyes and the pain in their hearts.

The people of Gotham weren’t as calm.

No, they were raging.

Dick could hear them yell and scream and curse… and he could see their angry faces, their pitchforks, the fire they all carried with them – figuratively and literally. Gotham was a trash heap even on the best of days, but the people inhabiting the city were fighters. They hadn’t bowed before the Wayne’s… and Dick trusted them to not bow before Shiva either.

They would fight and they would bleed, and they would curse.

He loved these people. He loved this city.

He hoped one day they would be able to forgive him as well.

He knew, he wasn’t powerful enough to break their spirits, but he would dampen some – and he would sacrifice the respect they had in him. But Tim and Damian would live. And Gotham would see another day.

The guards had to fight to get through the crowd, tomatoes and spoiled potatoes flying through the air like deadly bullets. But not even the anger of a city could stop the inevitable – they reached the execution site.

It was a wooden podium, standing tall above the crowds- Bruce had used it for speeches and public sentences, and Dick had added another use to it as well: a stage for the musicians during the fall festival and the yule.

His head wouldn’t be the first to roll over its wood, but his blood would be the first to coat the old oak in over a dozen years.

Dick swallowed thickly.

This was the end.

This was his death.

Lady Shiva was waiting for them on top of the wooden structure. She wore the golden gown Dick had seen her in before. It looked dull in the grew still coloring the sky, but Dick knew she would look divine the moment the first trail of light touched the golden twine.

She had her sword by her side and her encourage behind her.

Dick saw Deathstroke and Deadshot – and he saw the girl, Lady Shiva’s daughter.

He stayed silent when the guards pushed him and his brothers onto their knees, holding them in place as Shiva stepped onto the edge of the podium, addressing the people of Gotham:

“Gotham! A new day has begun! Dawn is upon us! And with this new day – a new age shall begin as well! The reign of the House of Wayne is over! It is I, Queen Shiva, who has claimed your throne!”

The crowds were roaring, but Dick didn’t doubt that her voice had carried over the entire plaza. Shiva’s tenor was powerful, and her words were not one to be ignored. It didn’t make it any better---- Dick could feel his life slip through his fingers, could feel his time run out.

He swallowed down bile and focused on the boys… Damian and Tim were still silent, still stony… Dick never wanted to forget them. He wanted to carry their memories with him into the afterlife.

“I am your new Queen! But I shall not be a cruel one! Gotham will prosper under my reign! It will grow! And food will be plenty! I am not a woman of cruelty! I am one of fairness and honor!”

Another wave of excitement went through the people of Gotham. Dick didn’t want to look – he didn’t want to see the anger, the fear, and the righteousness of the people he had sworn to protect. He also didn’t want to see their glee, their excitement at watching him lose his head.

Instead he focused on Damian and Tim and he couldn’t help himself, he began to whisper:

“ _I love you… I love you… I love you… I love you…_ ”

It wasn’t much – it was the only thing that counted.

“And to prove my fairness to you, people of Gotham, I shall… I shall pardon the Princes of Gotham. Damian and Timothy Wayne of Gotham are free of the charges laid against them. They are free of the death sentence they deserve – and they shall be well cared for.”

Damian couldn’t hide his panic, when the guards pulled him upwards, and Dick knew he wasn’t imagining the silent tears running down Tim’s cheeks as they were guided towards Lady Shiva. They were shaking and crying – but their heads were held high, their shoulders were straight and proud.

Dick could feel his heart being pulled apart, his soul ripped in two – one part staying with Damian, the other going with Tim.

Lady Shiva smiled down at them, both of them not reaching her height, when the guards came to a stop next to her. Dick couldn’t see her eyes, but he knew what she was asking – he only hoped his brothers would comply.

It was painful to watch, and to know they were doing it for him.

Tim was the first who reacted, slowly kneeling down in front of Shiva, his head touching the ground, his face blank. For a moment Dick feared Damian wouldn’t follow the example of his brother, the disgust so strong in the young face, but then Damian kneeled as well.

The crowds rioted.

Dick wasn’t sure if it was in Shiva’s favor or against.

“Thank you.”

What made it worse, was the fact that Shiva sounded sincere, and Dick bit down on his tongue, blood filling his mouth, when the guards touched his brothers once more, guiding them until Lord Wilson and Lord Lawton could grab Damian and Tim, respectively.

They were no longer his.

But at least they were still alive.

“Who will die however… is the King of Gotham, just as material law demands. I am not unjust – I let him eat, I let him sleep, I treated his wounds. And I shall allow him to speak his last words to the people of his former kingdom.”

Dick pushed the fear away, the dread, the pain… he barely reacted when he got pulled into a standing position, pushed forward until he stood next to the dented block of wood that would soon be decorated in his blood.

He could see the crowds perfectly standing up like this. He could see the anger and the joy and the excitement burning in their faces. He could see the uncertainty.

If he glanced towards his brothers, he would see… _different things_ , but Dick wasn’t strong enough.

Instead… he spoke the crowd, to the people he had wanted to protect:

“Gothamites… It has been an honor to be your king. It has been a worthy time spent watching over you… I have done my best, and I hope you will forgive me my mistakes. I am… sorry to go like this. But I… I see prosperity in your future. I see good things for this city and its kingdom. I see a future for all of you – don’t throw it away. I was your king – and I hope my name won’t be forgotten. But I shall… I shall thank heavens that it was Lady Shiva, who brought you the new age.”

This time Dick knew what would happen, he knew there would be screams of outrage, and yells of disbelieve. He closed his heart to the disappointment of his people, of his brothers. He wished he could close his ears to the insults as well.

Shiva seemed to be proud of him, her smile honest when she looked at him.

_He didn’t want to die._

The sky was turning red and orange and yellow.

Shiva stepped closer, her golden dress trailing behind her. Her hand was warm when she touched his cheek, and Dick didn’t fight when she pushed him down, his head resting on the wood.

It smelled old, and dusty… and it smelled of iron, of the blood of strangers.

His last moments had begun. His end was near. He was about to die.

Dick really, really didn’t want to die.

Everything just seemed so… bright when he looked around. The clothes of the people in their greens and reds, the grey sky slowly turning bloody, the dull glimmer of Shiva’s dress... He could hear birds sing their early tones, he could smell the old blood, and he could feel his heart pound in his chest. The world was vibrant.

Dick felt so alive.

He wouldn’t be for long.

His stomach was cramping, the dread making the nausea bubble up, but Dick pressed his lips into a thin line. He would die in grace, he would die with dignity – he didn’t want to die at all.

His eyes found Damian and Tim against his will. It hurt. It hurt more than any sword could ever harm him. They were crying – both of them – and Dick saw how Damian pushed against Wilson’s hand keeping him in place. He could see how Tim struggled against Lawton’s hold.

They… they would be forced to see this, and Dick was just _so, so sorry._

He loved them. It hurt how much he loved them.

Dick’s eyes were still on his brothers tear streaked faces when the first tendril of sunlight hit Shiva’s dress, sending a glint of pure gold dancing over the wooden podium. Dawn had come, the first light of the day had touched Dick’s dying form.

It was time.

Dick pulled a shaky breath into his rebelling lungs, past the panic and the fear, and he whispered a small “I love you” into Damian’s and Tim’s direction, when the morning light caught in Shiva’s sword as she raised it above her head.

He loved his brothers. He would die for them again and again – he wanted to protect them for an eternity, but from now on, they would have to be there for each other.

Dick would miss Damian’s carefree laughter when he won at chess, and he would miss Tim’s smirk after a satisfying round of cards. He would miss their fights as well… and the tears… and the insults… he would miss his brothers.

The sword came down.

One last _I Love You_.

A new day began.

**Author's Note:**

> And then Jason jumped from the crowd, not actually dead, his sword ready to block Lady Shiva's hit. The fight was short and brutal, Dick stumbling back from his position on the floor.  
> Panicked he looked around, not understanding what was going on, and there... Damian and Tim were no longer standing next to Deathstroke and Deadshot. For a moment fear threatened to swallow him up, but out of the corner of his eyes he could see movement.  
> When he turned around it was Shiva's daughter. She was guiding his brothers down from the podium. Before Dick could react, Jason pulled Dick upwards, pushing him until Dick's legs were strong enough to carry him down the stairs.  
> Lady Shiva's men and women weren't fast enough - Jason, Dick, the girl, and his two brothers vanishing into the crowd.


End file.
